


The Sorrowful Princess and the Lonely King

by Lillytalons (Lillya17)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Folk Tale, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillya17/pseuds/Lillytalons
Summary: The Sorrowful Princess and the Lonely King. Listen well, for this is the tale of the girl and the boy, turned woman and man, known to all of our kingdom. Gather round the fire, children, travelers, and revelers, and I shall tell it to you.





	The Sorrowful Princess and the Lonely King

**Author's Note:**

> This story is told from the mouth of wise women and bards, at feasts, festivals, and 'round campfires. It's told in three parts, to fit around other celebrating, topping up drinks, etc. Hope you enjoy it!

 

Listen well, for this is the story of a girl who left her home, and a boy who was left alone.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved the sea. She had the dark hair and light eyes of her people. It was said that the blood of elves ran through her veins, but if her ancestor was in fact an elf, it had passed out of human knowledge. Her father was the most powerful prince in the kingdom, her brothers three respected princes as well, and she was the only princess.

For that is the tragedy of our heroine. She was the only woman of the house, for her mother had perished in the Great War. She had perished bravely, fighting the Corsairs, preventing from pillaging and burning her home. However, she left her children motherless, and her daughter with a fear of the sea. And so the girl who loved the sea, became a young women who feared it. And as the years faded, and the war ended, that fear faded as well, becoming a deep sorrow. And the princess began to fade as well.

/*\

Once upon a time, far from the sea, was a boy who loved the plains. He spent his days running and riding through the grass, playing with his sister and cousin in the wheat fields as yellow as his hair. He was second in line for the throne, orphaned young, beloved nephew of the King. He supposed he would grow to be a warrior, a marshal, a leader, and a nephew, but never King, never alone, and that is the tragedy of our hero. For he was all that he had supposed, save that he did become alone. For he became King at the awful death of King and uncle, prince and cousin.

The man’s sister survived, a fact he praised the Valar for daily. However, after the Great War that stole so much from his people, his sister was stolen in a way as well. She grew to love a man from the Stone Kingdom, and in the man’s love for his sister, and his wish for her happiness, he blessed their union. But when she finally departed, he was alone. He was King of the grasslands and horses, and the people who saw him as their hero. And the years of golden happiness in the grasslands faded, as did his joy.

* * *

 

Listen well, for this is the story of the meeting of the King and the Princess.

After the Great War, the people of the Grasslands, called the Riddermark by it’s own people, and the people of the Stone Kingdom, called Gondor by it’s own people, came together in a great celebration. The celebration was held in Gondor, in the great white city, called Minis Tirith, for the Riddermark was still scarred at burned from the monsters that had ravaged the land, and the white city was closest to the victory of the two nations. 

The three princes of the city on the sea cliffs had fought valiantly, and so had won the friendship and love of the new King of the Riddermark. In the days of revelry, the two youngest drank and ate with the young King (The eldest returned home to help rebuild and to reunite with his lovely wife and young child).

At a great ball in the Gondorian King’s hall, all of the finest lord’s and ladies attended. All the war heroes were there, or celebrating where the dancing of the nobility merged with the common soldiers, where the court musicians’ melodies blended with the common minstrels’, the spirit over the city making all equal. There the young king first saw the black haired girl. Her brother introduced the two, as was proper in that city, and so they danced. And though neither knew, the fading stopped at that moment. 

“Princess.” Said the King, “You are the most graceful dancer I have ever danced with.”

“King,” Said she, “I must say the same of you.”

“Eomer,” He said in return. “I don’t feel a King, and so Eomer suits me fine.”

“Lothiriel.” She said with a smile. “For friends have no need for titles.”

“Very well.” Said he, and the joy increased in his countenance.

And the rest of the night they danced, and laughed, and for that night, they were not a princess and a king, but simply Lothiriel and Eomer, a woman and a man, who weren’t so lonely anymore.

* * *

 

Listen well, for this is the conclusion to our story. Shortly thereafter, Eomer was to return to his home, for his people needed him again, as a people always needs their king. And so he returned, but first with the promise of correspondence with his lady fair. She gladly gave him such a promise, and gave him a token to remember her. It was not a handkerchief as many women would give, nor a flower which would wilt far before he arrived back to his golden hall. It was a shell, a many chambered shell, found by Lothiriel when she was young, walking on the shore with her mother.

And so, Eomer returned to his home, the golden hall, and Lothiriel returned to hers, the city on the cliffs by the sea. And still the seasons continued their dance. The last chills were swept away, the flowers bloomed brilliant colors, and the crops grew more than any of the growers could have hoped. Lothiriel was remarked upon to be more beautiful everyday, and though she did not know it, it was because every day she had more joy, and more love for her Eomer. Eomer began to be called blessed by his people, for the crops grew more than they aught, and the foals of that year were bigger and healthier and livelier than any had ever seen, and the mantle of sorrow fell away from Eomer, and none knew the reason, though they were glad.

And as the flowers slowly faded, and a slight chill came, and as the crops came to harvest and the days grew shorter, still Eomer wrote to L. And still Lothiriel wrote back. And after the last harvests were brought in, and after Lothiriel passed the last of her duties to her brother’s wife, Eomer could wait no more. He wrote the shortest epistle Lothiriel had ever read, begging her to be his bride. And she wasted not a moment in going to her father, who had received a similar letter from her Eomer, though his was longer and concerned permission for their union. That very day she accepted, writing to him and sending out their fastest rider. And Eomer could hardly sleep until he received her answer, though when he did, it is said he did not stop smiling for a week. 

Frost and snow settled over the Riddermark, and boats were kept from going into the winter gales in Gondor by the sea, and time seemed to stop for the two in love, though they stayed true and waited. The first thaws of spring saw a great party travel from that Stone Kingdom called Gondor to the grassy plains called the Riddermark. 

And the princess called Lothiriel became the Queen called Lothiriel. And the King called Eomer became nothing more, except married, which he claimed was the best thing he could have become. And the sorrow of the girl never left her, but it faded, and she became vibrant again. And the sorrow of the boy never left, but it faded, and he became alive again, and they both became joyous again. And their families rejoiced, and their kingdom rejoiced. And Eomer and Lothiriel lived happily ever after.

Hear well, for that is the story of our Queen and King, the story of happiness after the Great War. Hear well, and find joy.

 


End file.
